Month: February 2016


I’ve been watching the Miss Fisher Murder Mysteries series. I’ve enjoyed them. It’s been fun. There’s daring do. The clothes. The sets. The cars. There’s romance. But the bottom line is I won’t rally for a season four now that she’s kissed Jack as she goes flying off with her Father to England to return him to Mother.

Why not? After season 1, I continued to watch, but not with my whole brain. Phryne, charming and outré as can be, just is. She is a woman of mid-forties. She is a force of nature, with money and skills that come from a free-wheeling and colorful life, sometimes because of the wealth, sometime because it was scrabble. It’s interesting, but Phryne is not about to change. Continue reading


When I read I am not very critical, never was. I am the proverbial sponge. I take in. I soak. I immerse. If I can’t do that in a story, if I can put a story down without a fight, then for me, it’s not that good a story. If I have to fight myself to put down a story at midnight, make a bargain about what I will get done so I can get back to the story, then I know some part of that story will show up in my dreams. I dream all the time. I can not remember a time I did not, have not dreamed. Even when I wake up from being given an anesthetic, I feel like I dream.

It is very loud in my head. Always. I feel a little Walter Mitty. Always. So where am I going with this? Continue reading